


Dark Horrors

by mercifulmonster



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Blood and Gore, Creampie, Crying, Dark Warden, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, M/M, Rape, Rough Sex, Slut Shaming, Stomach Bulge, Victim Blaming, belly bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercifulmonster/pseuds/mercifulmonster
Summary: Anders gets separated from the group in the Deep Roads, only to be found by an ogre. The Warden-Commander comes and saves him, but the horrors of the darkness never quite end.





	Dark Horrors

Fuck the Deep Roads.

Anders hated them. He hasn’t been a warden for terribly long, but just long enough that he’s developed a deep-seated fear of the cramped darkness, the wretched smell and ominous sounds, and all the unknown creatures that crawls through them.

He didn’t mean to get separated from Warden-Commander Amell, but the last fight against darkspawn was drawn out and spread over a large maze of twisting caverns. He could have sworn he saw the group only minutes ago, but time feels like it moves differently when one is this deep underground. He’s spent twenty minutes—a half hour? two? how long has it been?—walking through different routes, but they all started to look the same.

Now he was truly lost.

A heavy feeling was starting to pool in his stomach, a growing fear that he won’t find the commander, that he’ll never find his way to the surface. He holds his staff in both hands, clutching it close to his chest as he aimlessly wanders through the dark. His grey warden senses pick up that there are more darkspawn nearby, pulsing an impression of warning through his veins. He fights back the panic that rises in him, audibly telling himself that he’ll find the commander, that he’ll get out of here alive.

He can hear muffled sounds of darkspawn grunts digging through the solid earth beside him, just on the other side of the cavern wall. He places his hand against the stone, but the vibrations are just barely there.

Anders turns a corner, his heart skipping a beat when he sees warm light casting dancing shadows on the cavern wall. _A fire!_ He rushes toward it, feeling hope flood his chest. Maybe the group made camp for the night, maybe Anders is saved after all.

But when he reaches the fire, built into a small recess in the cave, his heart drops. Not only is there no commander and no companions, but it also doesn’t look like a fire built by people. It’s a small pile of bodies of both humans and darkspawn, with kindling shoved into their open wounds to keep them alight.

The smell is rancid, the scent of burning flesh stinging his nostrils and invading his lungs. Anders looks away from the fire, briefly glancing back to see if the corpse is a familiar face. Thankfully it isn’t, but it still doesn’t settle the uneasiness overcoming him.

He’s snapped out of his momentary stupor by the feeling of the ground shaking beneath his feet, small pebbles and rocks clattering across the earth. The vibrations grow stronger, beating out a staccato rhythm that sounds eerily like…

Footsteps.

A feeling of pure fear and dread surges through his body, so heavy it keeps his feet glued to the floor. His eyes widen, swallowing as he stares into the dark of the cave before him. The footsteps are heavy and must belong to an absolutely monstrous creature. Anders tries to run through the possibilities, but the shape emerging from the shadows shuts down all thought completely.

It’s an ogre, broad-shouldered and wide-chested, with sharp knotted horns pointing toward the ceiling. It knashes its crooked teeth together, sounding like grinding glass as it grunts. Not wearing a single piece of armor, the ogre must be young, a few weeks since leaving the broodmother’s nest. Anders hasn’t seen a bare ogre before, but it’s even more terrifying with a heavy cock—thicker and longer than one of Anders’ forearms—hanging half-rigid between the monster’s muscular legs.

Coming to a stop only a few strides from Anders, it narrows its glossy eyes at him.

Anders’ hands tighten around his staff, lips quivering around the first few syllables of a spell. He fumbles over the words, sending a haphazard fireball whizzing past the ogre’s shoulder. This serves to only anger the creature, instantly lunging across the distance that separates them.

Anders tries to dodge the ogre’s reaching hand, but instead trips over the hem of his robe that gets caught between his feet. He goes topples to the ground, skidding into the dirt and grime that coats the floor. His cheek stings from being cut on a sharp stone, leaving him shaken with his staff now out of reach, several feet away.

He quickly regains his wits, feebly crawling across the dirt despite how much the rocks dig into his knees and palms. The fear that grips him is visceral, hoping, praying that this isn’t where his life ends.

_Warden-Commander, where are you?_

But there is no sight of the man.

No matter how hard he tries to get away, the ogre easily catches up to him. A large, monstrous hand wraps around his waist, fingers tight around his middle, as Anders finds himself hoisted into the air.

Anders grabs onto the fist around him, summoning as much lightning as he can without a magical focus and shooting it into the ogre. The monster grunts, seemingly only bothered by the tickle of purple static energy. He tries flames next, burning the part of the ogre’s face he’s able to reach. It yells angrily, hitting Anders against the cavern wall.

Head throbbing, skull possibly even fractured, Anders runs through the multitudes of ways he could meet his end flash before him—being crushed in the ogre’s palm like a grape, his flesh eaten by those terrifying teeth, being torn apart by those arms. He’s seen enough death to picture it vividly, to nearly feel the pain already ripping through his body.

Whatever it may be, the only thing Anders can pray for is that it is quick, that he isn’t left suffering in the Deep Roads for too long.

Though he’s resigned to the fact that his magic has barely tickled the creature, Anders still struggles against its grasp. It’s impossible to win against such a creature by himself, but what he can’t stop fighting is the fear that grips him like a vice. He tries breaking free, but every little wiggle and kick earns a tightening fist. He cries out, his arms being crushed against his ribcage, bringing tears to his lidded eyes.

The ogre growls, a deep guttural sound that is slow, almost inquisitive. Anders feels it rumble in his bones, cracking an eye open to see why the creature hasn’t killed him yet. His vision is immediately filled by the ogre’s hideous face, gigantic inhuman eyes trailing over his body and making him shiver.

Suddenly he’s turned over, legs dangling beneath him as he faces the ground. Anders doesn’t have the chance to register what had happened before he feels the ogre’s other hand trace from his ankle to his knee, rucking up the skirts of his robe to his waist.

“No!” Anders cries, feeling renewed in his kicking and screaming. Maybe if he’s loud enough, someone will hear him and come to his aid. “No, let go!”

The ogre ignores his pleas, instead digging his claws into the thick fabric of Anders’ robes. The seams tear apart like paper under the brute’s strength, taking more than half of the robe from his below his waist. The skirts falls to the ground in a pool of useless fabric, leaving Anders’ ass and legs exposed to the chilly cave air… to the ogre.

The creature’s tongue—purple like its skin, textured like a cat’s, and slightly forked at the end—slithers from its mouth. Anders grits his teeth as the tongue licks a stripe up his backside, shivering at the hot, slick trail it leaves. The tongue settles on his skin again, this time instead pushing into the crevice of his ass and wagging back and forth.

Anders bucks and gasps, despising how wet and rough it feels as it wiggles past his rim. The ogre is exploring him, tasting his body. Perhaps it wants a taste before it kills him, before dragging his corpse back to the broodmother to consume.

Until he sees the ogre spit in its hand and pump its fully-hardened cock a few times.

“No! Please, _no!_ ” Anders shouts, voice turning more desperate and terrified by the second. _No, oh sweet Maker, no, no, no!_

It happens so fast, a searing, red-hot pain that shoots through him like an archer’s lance. The thick head of the ogre’s hardened cock breaches him, quickly pushing past his tight rim and thrusts fully into his body. The monstrous thickness and length is unlike he’s ever had before, stretching him impossibly wide as it pushes deeper and deeper.

A scream is ripped from his lungs, full of pain and horror that he is now firmly planted on the creature’s cock. Tears spring to his eyes, sobbing at the pain as his ass clenches around the massive pulsing cock. His knuckles turn white, gripping around the ogre’s hand still encircling his waist as he tries to bear the pain.

Letting out a short but appreciative growl, the ogre holds Anders tighter and begins to pull him off its cock. The friction burns like fire, dragging on his insides without anything other than the ogre’s saliva to ease the way. The bulbous head is nearly slipping out, leaving him winded. For a fleeting moment, Anders hopes the creature doesn’t find his ass too enticing…

… but those hopes are mercilessly crushed when the ogre forces Anders back down its cock.

Anders screams again, tears flowing freely down his face. The pain is agonizing, cutting right through him like a cleaver.

The ogre seems only spurred on by his screams of torment, starting to thrust in and out of his ass. Its cock beads precome at the head, but does very little to mitigate the excruciating friction. With every thrust, the ogre draws its cock until the tip is almost out before plunging back in as far as it could go.

Anders’ quickly tires out—from both struggling to get away and the cock that almost splits him apart—drooping in the ogre’s hand. He goes limp, only his legs and thighs seizing and shaking involuntarily as he’s brutally pumped onto the cock. 

The ogre fucks into him with unrestrained cruelty, grunting and growling in pleasure as it readjusts angle and speed. Its hot breath puffs across Anders’ back and neck, causing a shiver to claw up his spine but not strong enough to overpower all the pain plaguing him. He tries keeping his eyes closed, but they slowly drift open—and through the tears that blur his vision, he sees the bulge of the enormous cock pushing against out from his stomach. It makes him sick, seeing evidence of the ogre’s every thrust as it forces its way inside.

His screams don’t go unheeded in the cavern, as several darkspawn grunts emerge from their shadows to watch—perhaps waiting their turn, or waiting to tear into him once he’s used, discarded. A couple come closer, only for the ogre to growl in warning and the grunts recede back to the walls where they linger.

Suddenly something deep inside him tears, sending explosive pain out from the core of his body. His vision begins to bleed black at the corners, head swimming as he comes close to passing out from the pain. Something wet trickles from his ass, hot and sticky.

Blood.

The scent of it causes a frenzy, the nearby darkspawn becoming instantly restless and almost goading the ogre on. The ogre roars, pounding into Anders like the savage, mindless beast it is. Its orgasm is close, judging by the sudden increase in pace and the shortened breaths heaving from the creature’s lungs.

Anders shuts his eyes when the ogre grunts hard, pushing the fat cock as far inside as it can go. He can feel it pulsing wildly against his clenching ass, and there’s no mistaking when the ogre starts to come, the hot thick liquid pumping deep into him.

His screams dissolve into groans, voice hoarse and raspy while his body is unable to do much more than to stay solidly locked in the ogre’s grip. The come continually spurting into his ass seems never ending, the creature unloading a truly inconceivable amount. Anders’ stomach begins to feel swollen and heavy, almost distended from being filled and filled.

With its basic instincts satisfied, the ogre pulls him off its cock. The pain seems almost distant at this point, his ass so loose that he easily slides up the length. Anders can’t help but to let out a feeble cry, a few more tears dripping down his cheeks.

With all interest lost in the human, the ogre drops Anders to the ground. He falls like a rag doll, boneless and lifeless as his knees hit the floor first. He falls forward, face hitting the dirt but his ass still hanging in the air. His hole clenches a few times, pushing out gobs of come from its gaping surface. It dribbles down his balls and thighs, reminding him just how filthy he is, inside and out. Soon he’s covered with it, his legs and thighs, his rear and back.

The darkspawn grunts seize the opportunity, closing in on him like ravenous vultures. He is nothing more than meat to them, he supposes. Flesh to fuck, to feed to the broodmother.

Anders knows this is the end. He can’t move, couldn’t defend himself even if he tried. He’s been a dead man from the start. 

A blast of yellow light sends shockwaves through the cavern, knocking many of the hurlocks and genlocks off their feet. Anders flinches at the sudden shift, but relaxes once he recognizes the scent of the magic hanging in the air. He feels a familiar buzz of electricity run across his skin, making his skin prickle and hair stand on end. Purple bolts of lightning streak down from above, striking down the rest of the darkspawn.

Anders’ eyes drift toward the far end of the cavern, where a figure emerges from the shadows. Warden-Commander Amell stands alone, staff gripped tightly in his hands, looking as fierce as ever.

Almost as if he hadn’t noticed before, his gaze shifts to the man on the floor. “Anders!”

And all hell breaks loose.

As Anders has come to learn over the past few months, the Warden-Commander is not a person to cross. The man moves with devastating power and accuracy, taking down nearly every darkspawn that comes near him with his staff blade, and taking out entire groups with lightning.

Still unable to make his body move, Anders watches as Amell takes on the room of blighted creatures. His nostrils sting with the wretched stench of electrocuted flesh, and of the ogre that has finally been enveloped in a cyclone of fire. The blaze roars almost as loud as the monstrous creature, the flames burning through its skin like kindling.

With a loud thump, the last body falls to the floor, leaving the Warden-Commander the last standing among the carnage. His sharp dark eyes glance around him, the corner of his lips turning up in a small grimace. Amell wipes the gore from his blade using the armor of a nearby darkspawn before deftly twirling it behind him to hook it into its harness.

“Anders,” Amell says, quickly closing the distance between them with long strides before going down to one knee.

Anders winces at his name, the reality of his condition being seen setting in. Though a dozen excuses fly through his mind, he know there is no tricking the Warden-Commander. The man is smart, and there’s no hiding the fact that he’s half-naked, with bruises littering his body and...

Hand skimming lightly over Anders’ thigh, the Warden-Commander clinically looks over his body. Anders mentally readies himself for the revitalizing flow of healing magic, but moments pass and nothing comes.

“You’ve made a right mess of yourself, Anders,” Amell says, ignoring how Anders peers at him for insinuating it’s his fault. “I heard you screaming from halfway to Caridin’s Cross.”

The man’s hand settles on a globe of Anders’ ass, pushing into the purpling bruises until a hiss escapes Anders’ mouth. It hurts, everything does, and Anders hopes that the Warden-Commander would jump right to healing him instead of using this as a lesson to be learned.

“Look at you, you’re so filthy,” Amell continues, his voice darkening considerably. 

Panic rises in Anders’ throat, having heard this tone only moments before the Warden-Commander did something unimaginably cold-blooded. It’s now that he realizes that Amell isn’t going to help him, at least not right away.

“You should see it.” Fingers glide across the slippery skin surrounding his hole, dipping in to tease the loose edge of his rim. “You’re overflowing with come. The ogre’s, I assume?”

Anders teases his lip between his teeth, biting back the pain as he nods. Suddenly, the Warden-Commander’s voice is in his ear, hot breath brushing across his already over-sensitive skin.

“I wish I had seen it,” Amell confesses, merciless fingers pushing deeper into Anders’ ass. The man seems delighted with how the ogre’s come bubbles out around his hand. “I wouldn’t have stopped it either.”

Anders’ heart stops cold in his chest, feeling betrayed by the man he’d sworn to follow in exchange for his freedom. He always knew Amell wasn’t a good person, but he had never thought he’d turn on a fellow grey warden.

“I bet you can’t even feel this, you’re so loose,” Amell continues, pumping four fingers into Anders’ puffy, abused hole. More come dribbles out, fresh over the come that has already dried to his legs and thighs.

Unlike what the man believes, Anders can feel every bit of it, the searing hot pain returning quickly as if he was branded by an iron. He lets out a body-wracking sob, unable to keep it contained for any longer. From the corner of his eye, Anders swears the man grins at his pain, at the fresh tears rolling over his cheeks.

“Ever since I saw you, I dreamed of doing this to you, turning you into a downright mess,” Amell says, his voice filled with a mockery of awe and admiration. Anders eyes widen in horror when Amell stands, quickly untying his breeches from beneath his tabbard before sliding them down his hips. 

“Please no,” he chokes out, trying to muster all the strength in his body to get away. He only manages a wiggle, sniffling as the tears continue to fall. “No, d-don’t—”

But the Warden-Commander just laughs. “You couldn’t stop me even if you wanted to. And you don’t really _want_ to, do you? You like cock. I’ve seen you go after Nathaniel, and every other man in the Keep.”

Amell kneels between Anders’ legs, both hands settling over his bruised hip bones. “You’re such a cockslut, that ogre probably wasn’t even enough for you.”

As the other warden pushes in, Anders reaches out to grab onto something, _anything,_ but instead his nails scrape along the dirt. Amell bottoms out quickly, adjusting his hand so that his thumb can pull at his rim. He teases his hole, dipping his thumb in and out as Anders’ ass fails to clench around him, watching the bloody come drip out.

Though the Warden-Commander is nowhere near the size of the ogre, it hurts nonetheless. Anders cries, unable to move, unable to fight back, unable to do naught much more than take it. Tears stream like rivers down his cheeks, mixing with the dirt on his face. He begs and begs for Amell to stop, but the man only uses it as encouragement—riding Anders like he were only a toy, a tool for pleasure.

When it’s over, Amell heals him just enough so he could walk. Anders is too injured and exhausted to heal himself more, and there are no healing potions between the two of them. He’s unsure when he’ll have the energy to heal his injuries, but he is certain that he does not want anyone, not even the Keep’s healers, to see him like this.

Wearing Amell’s tabbard for modesty, Anders glares at him as he limps one step behind. He knows he can’t take on the Warden-Commander by himself—not now, not in this state, if ever. All he knows is he needs to leave the Wardens, to get away from this wretched place and this horrible man.

“Remember, Anders, that as a Grey Warden,” Amell begins after a few minutes of silently walking together. His tone has turned cold again, making Anders shiver in fear. “You serve all of Thedas, but most of all, _you serve me._ ”


End file.
